


Forbidden Plush (Otherwise Known as That Time Your Gay Ass Got Handed to You by Your Best Friend's Brother)

by ravesinthesky



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BroJohn - Freeform, M/M, Sexy Times, Smuppets, johnbro - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravesinthesky/pseuds/ravesinthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a really short, really silly drabble about John and Bro gettin' it on. Smuppets included. I co-wrote this with a friend of mine a while back. Dave and John are 19 and 20 respectfully, while Bro is in his early 30's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden Plush (Otherwise Known as That Time Your Gay Ass Got Handed to You by Your Best Friend's Brother)

You climb over the assorted piles of junk, paying close attention to where exactly your feet land, and maneuver through the living room. “Dude why is there so much shit everywhere,” you groan in the direction of your host.

He shugs and sends one blazing read converse through the air to land on the couch. “Dunno, man. That’s just how Striders do things,” he mutters and kicks his leg up enough to send the shoe’s brother spiraling out of control. It lands on the carpet, shoelaces splayed out and tongue lolling to the side a bit. A tragic murder victim… 

“Oh well I don’t like it,” you pout and shut the door behind you since Dave obviously wasn’t going to do. He makes a loud oomf sound as he launches his body into the worn out couch. His ass sinks down into the cushions, and he sighs, burying his head into a pillow. You kick him, and he shoots the bird at you.

“Just gimme 15 minutes ok? I’m fucking beat over here. Went for a ride down snoozeville in the middle of physics. Choo choo all aboard the sleeptrain,” he trails off and lazily lowers his eyelids. 

You make a show of groaning, but he just smiles a little bit under closed lids, so you head towards the kitchen calling back, “Ok whatever then Mr. ‘Snoozeville’. I’m gonna go raid your fridge now.”

“Don’t touch my apple juice.”

“Fuck yeah I’m going to touch it now.”

“I shit you not, Egbert. Touch my juice, and suffer the consequences.”

“What are you? Some cheesy horror movie? I just want something to eat,” you shout at him, your own shoes making squeaks on the kitchen linoleum. Giggling, you quietly open the fridge door and slide a bottle of the sweet illegal nectar out specifically to bother Dave. After you pour yourself a glass, you let your arms rest on the counter as you stretch out and lean against the smooth surface observing the cluttered mess that was the kitchen. Ignoring every unidentifiable stain and bit of stale food, you make a note of the cluster of fireworks shoved in the sink, the pink underpants (Dave??) hanging from the ceiling fan, and an oddly placed butcher knife stabbed straight into the pantry door. 

Finally, your eyes zero in on something fluffy looking and blue jammed in the toaster. Carefully setting the glass of juice down, shaking your sleeve a bit when the sticky liquid sloshes over the side, you cross to the opposite side of the room to get a peek. Managing to yank the soft… whatever it was out of the toaster, you palm it in your hands and turn it around to get a good look at it’s… face. Oh. It’s one of those weird puppet things Dave’s brother leaves everywhere. How you hadn’t recognized you, you don’t know. 

Stroking the puppets tuft of dark hair stitched into its head, you grin fondly at the thing. It wasn’t really all that bad now that you’re getting a good look at it. The material was soft and definitely filled with something plush so that it’s oddly proportioned body stuck up in the right spots. Poking at it lightly with one slender finger, you bend down it’s flexible nose and let go. The nose springs back to life underneath your fingertips, and you wiggle. 

Cupping it’s bottom in one hand, you bounce it back and forth, feeling the weight tip from palm to palm, and watch it’s soft foam grin and dull plastic eyes smile back at you. Dave’s brother made these things all by himself. Hand sewn probably you though, and each one uniquely crafted to serve. Another small wiggle overtakes you, and you let out a tiny breathy noise. Interesting…. Fascinating concept really. Like a sex toy, but lovable. Something unassuming. Something you could take home, keep in you room, show your dad… Something nobody would suspect. 

Glancing behind you shoulder, you scan the kitchen. Nobody. You hear Dave’s soft snoring from the other room and see absolutely no sign of anybody around. Coast is clear… Crystal clear… Keeping a close eye on all the doorways, you pocket the thing in your hands deep inside your hoodie without a sound, and head back.

“Get your gay butt up, Dave! I wanna play video games!" 

You didn’t see the blur that flashed passed the kitchen. 

That night, you have some fun. 

After you’re sure your dads gone to bed and were absolutely sure he had actually fallen asleep, you climb out from underneath your sheets and retrieve the thing, a smuppet you had heard Dave say earlier, from its hiding place in your closet. You keep the lights off, so that the only illumination comes from the dim moon diluted by curtains. With a racing heart, beating so fast you thought it'd catapult right from your chest, you scurry back into bed with the smuppet clenched in your fist, it’s blue fluffy peeking out between sweating knuckles. 

After stretching out on the bed, you kick the sheets aside with your legs and simple lay in the dark listening to your shallow breaths and counts the beats of your heart in time with the ticking of the clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Chest rising softly, you hook one thumb into the waistband of your jammies and slowly, agonizingly so, lower them farther and farther into they reach your knees. Your gaze darts to you bedroom door. Silence. Dragging them farther, you unceremoniously kick them off and they land in a head next to the sheets. Bringing the smuppet up to your face, you stare at it’s glassy eyes and bulbous nose. Ok maybe this thing wasn’t as sexy as you had imagined it to be in Dave’s kitchen. Maybe this whole… thing. Whatever you were doing right now, was fucking stupid. Maybe… 

You touch around it’s eyes, finger it’s small hands, and flick that ridiculous nose, trying to remember why you thought this was a good idea in the first place. Then you hear a noise, and your whip your head back towards the door. Nobody. Now your breathing deeper, harder, your chest shaking and… there it is! That feeling. That delicious feeling of adventure… danger. You like it. You could totally get caught right now. Your dad would be so upset… He’d probably yell at you. You never get yelled at, or rough housed, or even hit. Never! You’re a brat, jesus. Why doesn’t anybody fucking realize that. 

You roughly fist the smuppet and imagine what it’d be like if somebody actually reprimanded you. It’s not like anybody ever has before… but wait. What’s this. You pull a vague memory out of thin air and contemplate it. Just a memory… but slowly as you dwell on it, you start to recollect clearer.

A spill… at Dave’s house… You spilled something. What was it? Oh well it hardly matters. All over the couch… Dave’s pale face as he realized what you had done. His brother’s face when you had to explain what had happened. You weren’t ready for the explosion. On their brand new fucking couch, Egbert! Who the fuck did you think you were? He had totally screamed his head off at you and… it had been fucking awesome. The way his eyebrows scrunched together, his voice raised, the way you knew he wanted you to feel guilty… You swear he was going to smack you. 

With eyes shut, you hadn’t realized you had been slowly kneading the blue fabric between your fingers. Ok… Ok this was. Actually happening. You’re fingering a blue puppet, and it’s actually hot. Sneaking one more glance at the door, you take a shape intake of breath and reach down into your pants.

Stroking yourself with soft delicate motions, you concentrate on that same imagine. The look on Dave’s brother while he screams… How red his face gets. How loud his voice sounded as he blew up right in front of your eyes. Just fell apart and laid himself out to you for your enjoyment. Every twitch of his face, the way he had ripped his glasses off to glare at you, the fire in those eyes. Nobody had ever spoken to you like that, not your dad, not your teachers, not even you friends. Nobody. 

Something stirs inside you and warmth surges from underneath the tips of your fingers, one hand wrapped around your dick and the other still rubbing at the smuppet. The hand down your pants pauses momentarily so you can grab at the fabric of your shirt and hike it up over your head. Down it goes onto the floor to join the party. The sheets and your pants welcome it to the fun and offer it a refreshment. Your pants gratefully accept and- ok. Stay on task, Egbert. 

You’re starting to pant now that the hand is back under the stretchy waistband of your boxers, so you bring the smuppet up to slowly drag across your chest. You let its plush foam grin kiss down your bare skin, tickling the hairs and making goosebumps rise underneath the fabric. Your lip is clenched under your teeth as you bite down and pump a little faster. The smuppet drags lower and lower until its nose graces the waistband. Letting your mouth lull open a bit, you let out soft pants and squeaks, your hot breath fogging up your glasses. You imagine Dave’s brother, Bro he calls him, leaning over you. Shouting your name and holding your hips down tightly. He grabs at your waistband, letting it stretch and snap back down leaving a harsh red mark. Raking the smuppet against you flesh, he forces it down farther and grinds it into your crouch.

You cry out a bit, but stifle it with a quick clench of the jaws. You can’t- cannot. Have your dad. Walk in on this. Just the thought of him finding out… you choke down a gasp and pump until your wrist is sore. Bro mashes the smuppet into you harder, twisting your body around so your bare stomach presses into the mattress, and shoves the soft plush against you behind. Harder. Faster. He yells at you, then whispers softly, then grunts something angry sounding at you. The smuppet grinds harder against you, and your body shivers involuntarily. A sob wracks your chest, and your hips start moving on their own. They rock in time with the beats of your fist and shudder and twist back onto your back to get better leverage. Your hips shake and buck upwards to meet the smuppet, and you press the fluffy fabric harder against you. You start to mumble under your breath with fast, hot breaths, and that all too familiar white hot sensation burns in your tummy. You’re close. Really close. Just a little bit more… 

Your hips are moving irregularly now, and your whole arm aches down to the bone, but you keep at it, grinding the smuppet down and up so the velvety surface fills you completely. Your back arches completely up off the bed while you let out a few more pants, and let your eyes fly wide open in the dark air of your bedroom. Crying out softly, you spasm violently and collapse, hips still bucking. Your arm feels like rubber, and your bare chest is drenched and sticky, but you’re completely satisfied. Feeling sore and spent, you toss the damp smuppet under your bed, and you scuttle off in the direction of the bathroom. 

After getting cleaned up and redressed, you curl into yourself and hug your pillow tightly until you fall asleep agreeing with yourself that, yes. Taking the smuppet was a fantastic idea. It never even occurs to you that somebody… might have noticed it was missing.

==>

Monday morning rolls along, sluggish and hopeless as ever, and you pull yourself out of tangled bed sheets. You try to be as indiscreet as possible about your activities the previous night as you tip toe downstairs to meet a plateful of breakfast and a smiling dad. 

You leave with a good natured grin and a joke, but not before making sure the blue smuppet was tucked away in one of your backpacks many pockets. The plan was to drop the thing back where it belongs, at Dave’s house, away from you and all your perverse, sick fantasies… Ok. You weren’t that bad. But you definitely enjoyed that way too much for your designated comfort zone.

And believe it or not, you actually had quite an argument with yourself whether or not to just keep the stupid thing. But just the image of your dad cleaning your room, tacky dusting apron and all, like a good father figure should, when suddenly oh what’s this? A fuzzy blue dildo? In his wonderful son’s room? Just the thought had you reeling.

So that’s a goodbye to your little blue buddy.

After school, you catch a ride with Dave on his smelly yellow bus, with you complaining the whole trip seeing as you typical walk home, and spend pretty much the rest of the afternoon playing video games, both your school books laying neglected in the corner.

At first you thought the friendly visit would turn real weird real fast, what with Dave’s brother creeping around all the time, but surprisingly you didn’t see the man once the entire time. This sort of relieved you- no chance for embarrassing blunders, because shit, man. What you did the other night… But also you felt… sort of disappointed as well? Without Bro’s gruff voice reminding you to “Don’t spill those fucking Doritos”, you felt the visit was lacking its usually luster.

“So… Where’s your brother?” you ask as smoothly as possible.

Dave shrugs and grabs another handful of chips. Bringing them to his mouth, he crunches and bits of spit and chip crumbs fly through the air. “Dunno, man. He’s usually home by now.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Dave didn’t hear you. “Maybe he’s out shopping for groceries or some shit.” He pauses to think that over, and then snorts. “But most likely he’s at the park throwing acorns at kids from behind trees.”

This makes you laugh, and Dave joins in until he accidentally wrecks his kart on a rogue shell and goes tumbling off into the abyss.

You play until dinner time when your dad comes rolling up in your car, and you hop in regretfully.

“How’d the homework go, son?”

“Pretty good,” you mumble and watch as Dave’s house slowly disappears from view as your car rounds the corner.

It’s not until you get home that you realize in your distracted state, you completely forgot your main mission. The blue smuppet lays nestled in your backpack.

You don’t think about Bro for the next couple of weeks… ok. Correction. You try to not think about Bro for the next couple of weeks.

But your attempts are strictly in vain, because god damn it you just can’t get that guy out of your head! Every time you try to have a little bit of you time alone in the shower, there he is. Grinding against your ass and palming you from behind until you see stars raining down on you, but then you stop and realize it’s just the shampoo drizzling into your eyes, and you dig the heels of your hands into them in pain. Or when you try to get off in bed, and the only thought that resides there as you pet yourself to sleep are those calloused hands all over you, the way he’d shout your name and cum all over your- ok.

You really need to stop.

But stopping at this point is pretty much nearly impossible with how far gone you are with this man. Child. Thing. Dumb… After finding the smuppet, you threw it in your closest with disgust promising yourself you’d never look at it again. But you are a weak, weak boy. Within a day you were on your hands and knees pulling the soft plush out from it’s hiding place under a box of old baby toys. You really couldn’t help yourself.

You had to… you had to… to… Well you didn’t really know what you had to do. You didn’t really have to do anything. But what you wanted…?

You wanted to go Dave’s house.

“Hey, man, pass the Sprite,” said David in question barks at you as he fiddles on his phone.

“No way you’ve already had like three cups. Do your homework.”

“Whatever, mom.”

“Don’t be sassy with me, young man.”

“Yeah you tell ‘em, Egbert.”

You freeze in mid sip, Sprite dribbling down your chin and a cold chilled feeling dribbling down your spine. That voice… Your stomach churns and a hot feeling bubbles in your core.

“Oh there you are, Bro. Jesus fuck it’s only been like… what. Five days?” Dave drawls, and you quickly shut your mouth, the time for a clever comeback rapidly receding.

Bro struts- yeah no joke he literally struts- in and grabs the edge of the couch with one hand while snatching a can of Sprite with another. Flinging himself over the top of the couch, he crashes onto the cushions with an oomf right next to you. If there was ever the right time to piss your pants, now would be the right time.

His thick arm is right behind your head, and oh fuck your heart is beating like one of the huge Chinese gong drum things. “Try hours, lil man. Five hours.”

Dave sticks his tongue out at him, and he mocks biting it off, all while you sit there trembling from… what exactly. Lust? Nervousness? Genuine fear? We just don’t know. Well, all you really know is that last night you had an ass full of smuppet and a head full of this guy right here.

Turning towards you, Bro nudges your side with his giant man shoulder and grunts in your direction, “So what’s down with you, Egman.”

“Uh.” Speak words, John. Words. “Calculus.”

“Bullshit,” he snorts and takes a swig of Sprite, the sticky liquid slipping between his lips and spilling onto the tight white T-shirt.

And it was said that the rest of the evening, no homework was completed by a Mr. John Egbert.

He knows. You know he knows. Because when you get home that night, you find a brand spanking new smuppet, this one made of soft fluffy red fabric with a tuff of wonderful orange hair, tucked almost lovingly into your backpack. Right next to your calculus book. It was almost like a miracle from God. That is if God was a 6 foot white rapper with a puppet fetish and the abs of an Olympian.

At this point, you were pretty convinced he was.

And if you thought one smooth puppet nose felt good, imagine your surprise at the possibility of two. And so your little blue buddy got a friend.

But anyway, onto more important matters, he knows. Oh fuck he definitely, totally, no doubt about it knows. Who else could’ve? Who else would’ve!?

Now you were determined.

The next time you went to Dave’s, you were prepared. No more Mr. Nice Guy… You meant business.

That is to say you meant business all the way up until the point of contact. Then you devolved into a mess of awkward jokes and painful silences. You tried to come up with an ingenious way to bring up the smuppets, but… every time you tried either you got too intimidated by the man, or Dave would stumble in on your confession.

But you knew he knew. And that gave you hope… Because secretly you hoped there wouldn’t be a confrontation. You wanted him to grab you, bend you over against the table, whisper filthy words into the shell of your ear as he fucked you from behind…

“John?”

You jerk out of your fantasy, and direct your gaze to an expectant Dave.

“Wha…t?”

“I said pepperoni or cheese, dude.”

You give him a blank stare.

“Pizza…?” Now he’s dipped his shades down a bit to give you the usually “what the fuck” Dave Strider look with those freaky red eyes of his.

You shrug and toss the basketball down. Watching the orange and black blur together as it goes rolling down the sidewalk calms you enough for you to reply, “Oh, um pepperoni I guess. Whatever.”

Bro eats dinner with you guys. You know he knows. He’s got a can of beer clutched in one giant hand while the other scratches at the blond fuzz on his chin, his muscles taunt under the white cut off. Fuck why does he have to wear so much white…

And the fact that the summer evening was as hot as balls did not help. You had to remind yourself not to stare as the beads of sweat ran down Bro’s exposed neck and disappeared into the already drenched fabric.

The cheese slips off your pizza and lands on the plate with a wet smack.

You don’t notice.

That night when you finally allow yourself to leave the comforting warmth of Dave’s bed- so what if you guys share the same bed when you sleep over – on the account of your bladder crying out for mercy, you bumble aimlessly in the direction of the bathroom. But as you pass the bedroom you know to be Bro’s, you slow to a stop. You wonder how many smuppets he’s got in there… Probably more than three, which is how many you currently have tucked away in your closest- oh, did you forget to mention you found your third plush friend in your room one day after school? You wonder how many of them could fit inside you… Probably more than three…

The door softly creak as you tip toe inside, your feet making soft padding noises on the carpet. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the bed where… he isn’t. You exhale a deep breath, and scan the room for smuppets. The task really isn’t all that hard due to the fact that the plush guys pretty much litter every possible surface. Half made smuppets, their stuffing guts pouring out gruesomely, hang from lamp posts and sit in corners, while completed ones poke out from various boxes. A quick peek under Bro’s bed reveals at least six more or so hanging out down there. Shifting your feet, your hands shake and your skin itches at the possibilities.

“Like what you see?”

Biting down hard on your tongue to avoid screaming, you turn on your heels and practically crash into the expansion that is Bro’s chest. Stumbling back, you jerk your head back to meet his eyes, er, shades. He’s got them directed straight at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. And he’s shirtless.

You gulp, and almost squeak out a “No”, but stop yourself just in time. This… was your chance. This is what you wanted. What you’ve been working for. With all those subtly hints and suggestive comments and obvious innuendos at every chance. This was your moment of victory.

“Uh.” Words, Egbert. God fucking damn it use your words!!!

He laughs, a deep rich grumbling sound that rattles your chest and sparks something hot inside you. Now he’s leaning down next to you, mouth against your ear, and whispering. Fuck… his voice, gruff and dark, right next to your cheek and close enough so that his hot breath fogs up your glasses, does wonders to your groin.

“What’s wrong… Smuppet got your tongue?”

You whimper and lean into him.

His expression softens as he wraps one arm around your waist. “Just say yes. That’s all I need…” he’s murmuring in your ear, and he smells so good, like musky Axe and sweat, and you can hear his heart beating furiously under your cheek, because suddenly your being pushed up against him, and then you realize he’s seriously actually just as nervous as you are right now, and it’s all so overwhelming and…

“Yes…”

And that’s all he needs. With a strained noise, Bro rips off his shades and hauls you up by the waist. You only just realize that he had shut the door earlier before he’s throwing you onto the bed and towering over you, eyes hungry and needy.

You want to say something, tell him to be gentle, let him know this will be your first time, but the look he’s giving you shuts you up, and you can do nothing but lay there under the intensity of those amber eyes.

He crawls on top of you, your smaller body being crushed beneath his, and dances his hands up your side, hiking up your shirt as he goes. Grunting softly into your ear, he ruts against you eagerly and, oh wow. That was a dick. That was a real life actual dick right against your thigh. And from the feel of it, it was fucking huge, too. Your lips part and a ragged moan escapes your lips, and Bro shushes you with one finger. You take the finger into your mouth and suck delicately enacting a similar moan from your partner.

He’s over top of you know, knees spreading your thighs apart and threading between them, trying to get more leverage. And he’s whispering dirty, awful things into your ear while violently pushing into you, and you know you’ll have bruises the next morning. You spit out his finger, a thin strand of drool connecting it to your glossy lips, and he rakes both hands down your sides.

Struggling a bit, you scoot out from underneath him causing him to grunt in protest, but you shush him and wrestle with your sleep shirt. Once he realizes what your doing, he clenches the fabric and yanks up and over your head to reveal your chest, glowing a softly in the dark. You mentally reprimand yourself for eating one too many chips and skipping out on weekend gym trips, but Bro doesn’t seem to mind, because he makes the most beautiful sound and ducks his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Another of those needy groans builds up in your throat until it’s being ripped from your lips as Bro’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your belly button. His tongue dips into you, and on impulse you reach out with both hands to grip into his spiky blond hair.

He lavishes your belly, mouth muffled around your chubby midsection, and you whimper, until he’s coming back up and kissing you, his chapped lips crushed against your own parted ones and tasting like orange soda. And he’s fisting your hair, and still humping against your leg, and your close… so close… but you don’t want to be close. Not yet.

“W-wait,” you cry out, and he pulls back to look at you, eyes bright and alight with interest.

“What are you-” you shush him again, and simply point at a stray smuppet.

Slowly, you can see the beauty of it mapped across his face, the suggestion dawns on him, and he looks so giddy you practically want to kiss him again. So you do. And it’s wet and sloppy and you sort of strain your neck reaching up to him, but he reciprocates wonderfully, and wait when did he get a smuppet? Oh who the fuck cares because he’s dragging the material, courser and rough than your ones back home, across your bare chest, and he’s still kissing you, tongue exploring the roof of your mouth as your moan his name, and you can’t get enough.

His fingertips dance playfully at the waistband of your sleep shorts, and you whimper, your own hands jumping at the chance to move things along. You grab his larger hand in your own, and plunge both of your hands under the stretchy fabric. You rut against his palm desperately, and knot your fingers back into his hair.

He strokes you gently, still whispering into your ear, and then tugs you base to tip making yet another moan rip through you. Shaking against the pillows, you hump into his fingers and mouth at his earlobe. His chest is so hard, so dense against yours, and he’s crushing you so that each breath is labored, but it all feels so right, so good, and you can’t stop now.

He pulls back and flips you onto your stomach, your hips still jutting feverishly, and traces the nose of the smuppet against your ass. “Fuck me,” you whine, and arch your back for him.

Nuzzling you through your boxers, he caress your thighs, and then with one sudden, sharp movement, forces them apart and you cry out. Yanking your shorts down to your ankles, you’re left bare and cold in the dark room, precum chilling against your thigh. Moaning softly, Bro kneads the soft flesh of your ass and straddles your calves.

“Shhh,” he murmurs and your feel something wet slick against you. The warmth pulses in your stomach, and you wiggle underneath his touch. You feel him spread you apart and the familiar sensation of being filled.

You gyrate against his fingers, and throw your head back. He leans down and sloppily kisses your exposed neck as you fuck yourself against his fingers. After your stretch and ready, he pulls them out with a wet pop, and you immediately feel empty. “Bro…” you groan, but he shushes you. Then, slowly, almost achingly slow, he traces your ass with the smuppet nose, then ever so slowly, he inches it inside you.

Almost instantly you buck your hips and arch back, your whole middle aflame and hot with lust. Panting, you wince as he curves his wrist and pushes the fluffy nose farther and farther. This model is way bigger than the ones you have, and you breath deeply, nostrils flaring and mouth hanging open, as he kisses and sucks against your neck. 

You feel the smuppet drag against your walls as Bro gingerly pulls and then snaps back. The sensation is about a million times better now that you have somebody to hold you tight, muscles coiled tight by your tummy, leaning their heavy chest against your back, feeling their heart boom next to you, and knowing that with each grunt and shove, you were bringing them closer to that one moment. The moment where your hearts synchronized into one constant thrum, and your moans scramble over one another while white hot pleasure wracks your body…

Shaking violently, you cry out and spill yourself all over Bro’s sheets, and your screams blend with his rough grunts as he follows not too far behind. His hot fluids splash your stomach and droplets fall in your eyes, hair, mouth, and you’re panting heavily, the spasms of your orgasm rolling like thunder through your center.

He collapses, crushing you between layers of sweat and cushioning sheets, and breaths deeply into your ear. Reaching back, you thread you fingers through his hair and wiggle your body around to plant a smooch right on his nose. Flaming cheeks light up the room, and his eyes search yours for an explanation. You try to remind yourself he’s probably just as confused and afraid as you are, so you’re gentle when you say, "Sorry…”

Bro immediately whips his head back and forth, and makes a strained noise. “No! What, no, why are you, what? No!” he says quickly, and hugs his thick arms around you. “What the fuck? Sorry for what?” he says and squeezes your middle in what you imagine he means to be a comforting gesture. 

You shrug, and nibble on your chapped lips. “Uh… Sorry for. I don’t know.” And you didn’t? Sorry for making him do… this? Were you really sorry? No. Do you think it really inconvenienced him all that much? Probably not. 

He laughs, sounding rough and muffled against your cheek, and nuzzles you. “I always knew you were a pretty cool kid I guess but… smuppets? Wow, dude. Way to knock up the cool factor by about a bajillion.”

“Try telling that to Dave…”

“Oh man ew boner kill. Don’t talk about Dave while I spoon you. Actually, just don’t talk about Dave ever, ok?”

“Did you just say spoon…? You fuck me with a fuzzy colorful dildo, and then use a word like /spoon/?”

“Hey why don’t you shut the fuck up?”

“So... the pink panties in the kitchen. Your’s or Dave’s?”

“ Ok, this fanfiction is so done now."


End file.
